Fire From A Match

Mom checking in with another poem. I like this one a lot.



a handful of ice is what it felt like
when I touched you knowing
I had lost you to a younger
more beautiful world
which would renew the lust
of our youth when we did not
know what time would carry with it
changing our looks and thoughts
catching on rough spots between us
we never really tried to iron out
listing like a sinking ship in the rough seas
created by years together never bailing out the
darkest recess of the boat we were in
wondering where the laughing teenagers went
who knew nothing of tomorrow
holding hands with fate not failing
because of promises made in black and white
and the mask of dwindling youth
the fire from a match was
all there was